Novel & Cerita The Dumont Diaries

No answer. Just missing pages. I close the diary. My hands are trembling. --- Damien finds me sitting by the window with the diary in my lap. He knocks once before entering. 'You're awake.' I look at him. 'I found something.' His expression immediately changes. He walks toward me. 'What?' I hand him the diary. He takes it carefully. 'I read my mother's diary.' His eyes move toward the worn cover. 'Rose's?' I nod. 'She wrote about her childhood. About the balls her family attended.'

The cocktail mix of both, felt like the most beautiful scent I'd ever been introduced to. The room was properly furnished with the oddest of bougie furnitures and I knew most of them could make for artifacts in a museum. At the far end of the room, there was a cocktail bar with a glass counter and a show glass with a thick and solid glass frame merged with a wooden platform beneath and below it's pedestals. It housed the finest of wines, the ones I was accustomed with and others which I hadn't been familiar with. It made me wonder if Fabri had become a wine collector. The divinely solid and wooden framed walls were littered orderly with the pictures of some men. I figured that they were hand

Dom takes the cell phone from my hand and selects photo after photo, sending each one to him. “I'm going to torment their lives”, Dom says, with a smile, turning to my cell phone. Dominique flicks his fingers to the side and keeps looking at my photos, amused, commenting, and when he moves on to the next one, his eyes widen when he sees one that was just for Blanca and me. A batch of a hundred sealed jars of hazelnut cream on my bed. It was the day I went to Paris, and he stayed here, dying of flu. We dumped a few boxes on the bed, and I lay on top of it, showing off, and Blanca took lots of photos.

"Young lady, I swear it was like a movie. One minute a nice fellow, Ethan, I believe, was his name, was showing us the new blueprints and asking us to show him the busted pipes so he could fix them. The next there was an explosion to two of our mills, throwing us off our feet." "They used our moment of shock to attack us, it was five of them. Beating us with iron pipes and bats." I nodded, then removed the thumb drive for the computer. I turned it over in my hand. “This isn't our thumb drive." "How do you know that?" Wendy asked, looking at the small device in my palm.

"Didn't I tell you that you're the only woman he loves deeply? One more reason I came here. I want to give this to you." She got stunned when the old woman suddenly handed her a familiar notebook that she was starting to recognize. To her surprise, it was the diary she owned way back in her high school days. The diary where she chronicled all her feelings to Thyago way back in her teenage days, the diary where it all began...

junior he always praised. One wore my bathrobe. The other stood in the apartment I paid for, looking down on me—the rightful owner. What a joke. Without a word, I walked into the bedroom. The desk was piled high with Harvey's books, while all my belongings had been shoved under the bed. When I came back out after changing, the breakfast I'd prepared for myself was gone—devoured completely, leaving only a mess behind. But what truly shattered me was the watch on Amy's wrist.

And the monster’s victory is so complete, it leaves you wondering if you’re reading the journal of the victim… or the secret, proud biography of the victor. Then, after a long pause, Adam lifted the diary again. His thumb brushed along the edge of the next page. “…Okay,” he whispered. And he opened the diary. ——— Episode 20 – Pool Party The envelope was thick, cream-colored, and smelled faintly of chlorine and expensive perfume. Mason’s name was scrawled across the front in a looping, feminine hand. He slit it open with a thumb, his calloused fingers a stark contrast to the delicate stationery. Inside, on a cardstock the color of a summer sky, were the words:

Now, he acted like a madman, searching the rubble for any trace of me—a scrap of paper, a fragment, a strand of hair. I heard he found a diary I had hidden in a secret compartment. It contained records from our ten-year-long marriage. That night, on the surveillance footage, Domenico knelt in the dust-covered ruins, clutching the half-burned diary and crying like a helpless child. The diary contained no long passages. Just brief entries documenting moments from my ten year marriage. [Today, Domenico gave me a rose. He said my smile is beautiful.] [My father's library was destroyed. I'm heartbroken, but Domenico is comforting another woman. He didn't see my tears.]

However, she was caught in the act by Dante, who'd returned early from work. "Annie, what are you doing?" Dante demanded icily. Anna's hand trembled, and the diary fell to the ground. He picked it up and quickly glanced through it. His gaze turned glacial in an instant. "What is this?" he asked in a low voice laced with suppressed anger. Annie stammered, "D-Dante, J-Julia just scribbled this stuff. It's not true…" Dante said nothing and merely stared at her icily, his gaze seemingly piercing through her very soul. He opened the diary again and read each word, his expression growing increasingly grim.

“Though I don’t know what he found so interesting about this specific entry. This diary is enchanted, as you may already have noticed. If anyone other than a duly recognized person tried to open the diary, all they would see would be a few hundred pages of nonsensical, mundane entries written in Gaian. The real form of this diary is an audio recording of whatever the owner wanted to keep safe.” “This entry was dated year 368…That’s like, two hundred and thirty years ago,” I said. “And the woman who owned the diary said something about a Czar. If she was really a Romina ancestor, then she would be referring to the City State of New Moscow, all the way in Western Eurasia.” Dad and the Commande